


Standing on the Cliff Face

by TheNightSkyObserver



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Body mutilation, Emotional Manipulation, Fluffy beginning, Forced Betrayal, Gore, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Heavy gore, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past manipulation, Presumed character death, Traumatic Bodily Injury, hurt/little comfort, intense guilt, mental manipulation, self hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightSkyObserver/pseuds/TheNightSkyObserver
Summary: One can only carry their sins for so long. What happens when your lies are finally revealed? The weight of your lies will slip away. Even if you'd rather keep it.
Relationships: Grian/Mumbo
Comments: 24
Kudos: 71





	Standing on the Cliff Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BastardBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardBin/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Weight of Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027974) by [BastardBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardBin/pseuds/BastardBin). 



> Dedicated to and Inspired by the always amazing BastardBin. This fic has been approximately 6 months in the making, I hope you all enjoy!

Grian knew it was a bad idea. He knew it, but he agreed anyway. No matter how much he may want to, he just can’t say no to Mumbo.

_“Please Grian? It’ll be a short trip, I just need some more End Stone, and I want you to be my buddy for the trip.”_

Mumbo’s face had been so earnest, so open, and Grian caved instantly. It was worth the expression of pure happiness that had overtaken the angel’s face. It always is.

So now, Grian finds himself next to Mumbo in the eerily silent End, dutifully mining out End Stone for his companion. Their conversation is minimal, so Grian fills up the space with a tuneless little melody, humming and singing to himself. With the little dazed smiles Mumbo keeps sending his way, Grian is just enjoying being with the angel, even if they are in The End, which he does _not_ enjoy. Mumbo shucks off his suit jacket at some point, leaving him only in his white dress-shirt and tie, and Grian is _not_ eyeing the angel’s upper arms while he works, _he’s **not**._ After a while, Mumbo breaks the silence.

“I think that should be enough! I’ve got two shulkers full, what about you, Grian?” Mumbo asks, turning and looking at the demon, his eyes bright. Grian checks his pack.

“Looks like…about 3 and a half shulkers?” He answers.

“Oh my word! Grian!” Mumbo lets out a laugh, lightly pushing on Grian’s shoulder. “You didn’t need to collect so much!” Grian just smiles and shrugs.

‘It’s no problem, Mumbo, really,” He gives Mumbo a bright smile, which immediately falls from his face when Mumbo’s face goes hard, his eyes trained on something behind the builder. Mumbo steps forward and pushes Grian behind him. Stumbling, Grian manages to turn as he’s shoved, and he feels the blood drain from his face. _An Archangel_.

“What do you want? How are you even here? This is a private world.” Mumbo’s voice is cold and flat. The archangel merely tilts his head.

“I couldn’t help but notice, little one, that your wings are on someone else’s back. I thought perhaps, you may want some assistance in dealing with that… _disgrace_ , behind you.” Grian sucks in half a breath, taking an aborted step backwards. To his surprise, Mumbo turns slightly, and smiles at him, before facing the archangel once again.

“I don’t, actually. I’m well aware of my situation, and I’ve come to terms with it. So no. I don’t need your help, and I would appreciate it if you left.” The archangel’s eyes widen ever so slightly before narrowing.

“So, you _knew_ that this… _abomination_ , stole your wings? And you’re just… this is fine?” The archangel’s face has taken on a dark look of judgement, with his mouth curled into a sneer.

“Yes. I did. And it is fine. I love him,” Grian lets out a quiet gasp at Mumbo’s words. “I love him and nothing is ever going to change that.”

“ **Pathetic**. You’d really throw everything you have, everything you _are_ away, just for some… worthless demon?” the archangel directs his disgusted question at Mumbo. Grian feels his heart go cold, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the angel.

Mumbo doesn’t even glance at Grian before he answers.

“I would rather die over and over, for all eternity, than go without Grian in my life ever again.”

The archangel smirks.

“Oh **would** you now?” The archangel barely twitches a finger, but suddenly Mumbo is _screaming_ out in pain, holding his head in his hands.

“ _God no please! Please not again! Not again PLEASE! I’ll be good, I promise! Not again, **PLEASE!** ”_

The archangel just laughs, and snaps his fingers.

* * *

Mumbo knows that his answer will anger the archangel, but he gives the honest truth regardless.

_“I would rather die over and over, for all eternity, than go without Grian in my life ever again.”_

A stab of fear runs down his spine at the smirk he gets in response, before the archangel is answering.

_“Oh **would** you now?”_

With those four little words, Mumbo’s world explodes into pain. Pain he recognizes, pain he’s _used to_ , but pain nonetheless. The searing burn in his mind, knowing that the archangel is digging through his thoughts, _his memories_ , but then the archangel starts to prod further, and Mumbo goes cold with panic when the realization sets in. _The archangel is looking for his root emotions_. Mumbo grips his hair in his hands as the pain grows, and he screams.

“ _God no please! Please not again! Not again PLEASE! I’ll be good, I promise! Not again, **PLEASE!** ”_

He can hear the archangel making disapproving noises in the back of his mind, and he doesn’t even know if he’s conscious or not, the pain is so immense.

_“You really do care for this pathetic demon, don’t you, little one? I suppose… perhaps I need to show you what will happen if you continue this… course of action. Demons know nothing but trickery, betrayal, and hate, little one. So unlike angels. So unlike **you** , little one. I only want to save you from the inevitable heartbreak. Because he will. Break your heart, that is. Here little one, let me show you…”_

Mumbo screams out as his mind is engulfed in flames, burning hot and angry flames. He feels something, _someone_ , touch his face, but the pain doesn’t go away, no, the pain grows, and Mumbo isn’t sure whether he’s alive or dead or somewhere in between.

Suddenly, he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean, and he can just faintly make out the figure of an angel gliding through the sky. Something dark and angry settles in his stomach the longer he watches, and with no warning, whispers that don’t quite sound his own flutter through his mind.

 _Does he know how much it hurts to watch another fly with your wings?_ Mumbo shakes his head to dispel the thought, he knows the de— Grian still feels immense guilt over what he did to the angel. Mumbo continues to watch as the— as _Grian_ , spins through the air, apparently feeling safe enough to give in and let the glamour slip away as he glides, the stark black of what used to be Mumbo’s wings suddenly very visible against the bright blue sky. Mumbo loves the builder with all his heart, he _does_ , but here, watching him spin through the clouds, his carefree laughter just barely reaching Mumbo’s ears, the angel can’t help the seed of resentment that sits heavy in his chest.

Mumbo jolts at the weight of a hand landing on his shoulder, and he turns, relaxing as Doc comes into his vision. The man smiles down at the angel, and Mumbo can’t help but the answer smile with a small one of his own.

“So…” Doc’s voice is steady, but Mumbo can still pick up on the veiled uncertainty, even after all these years. “How are you feeling?” Doc’s hand is warm where it rests, and Mumbo resists leaning into it, like he used to.

“I’m… alright, I suppose,” Mumbo says quietly, letting his gaze fall back onto the demon flying through the air. Doc squeezes his shoulder before letting go.

“Mumbo, tell me the truth, I know you, and I know you’re lying. You can’t hide your emotions from me Mumbo, come on,” the man’s voice is soft, caring, and Mumbo feels a tear run down his face. He collapses backwards into Doc’s firm grip, and lets out a shuddering breath.

“I just… what did I do Doc? I… am I a bad person? Did I do something so reprehensively wrong to deserve being grounded?” Doc doesn’t say anything, just looks at Mumbo with the soft look that the angel used to see every day, silently prompting Mumbo to continue. The angel just scoffs, a sneer finding its way onto his face, his eyes locked firmly on the demon who stole his heart and his wings.

“You know Doc, I know the universe works in strange and curious ways, but sometimes, it feels like it just doesn’t want to work for me.”

Mumbo doesn’t feel himself move, but the world around him shifts like a kaleidoscope, scenes flickering in front of his eyes, his heart growing darker with each one.

Grian flying with Joe and False.

Grian sitting with Tango and Jevin, laughing at something or other.

Grian smiling up at Mumbo, his eyes bright as he wraps his wings around the angel.

Grian _abandoning_ Mumbo, choosing to instead spend his time with Xisuma, with Iskall, with Stress, and Mumbo has to watch as the demon walks away, the angel’s wings flapping gently on its back.

Mumbo’s world continues to spin, faster and faster and _faster_ ; all he knows is that the bitter and vicious hole in his chest is only growing darker, angrier, _disgusted_. He watches as Grian steps away, spending less and less time with Mumbo.

It seems every hermit is worth more time than Mumbo is to the demon, and the hot acid tears begin to streak down the angel’s face. What did he do? What did he do to deserve this? To have the thing that truly marked his identity, the thing that gave him _freedom_ , his **_wings_** , ripped away from him by the very creature that then had the audacity to steal his heart? The angel sucks in a ragged breath through his burning sobs as a thought sears through his mind.

_‘Is he just not good enough? Wasn’t good enough for **them** , wasn’t good enough for **him** , why should he think he’d be good enough for Grian? He’s never been good enough before, why would he be now? Especially grounded and useless?’ _

His thoughts continue to spiral, burning hotter and angrier and sadder as they go, until he finds himself curled on the floor, hands in his hair, screaming out in agony between his sobs. He can’t understand, this pain feels so raw and new, but also deep and ancient all at once, and his mind is nothing but flames.

He just wants it to stop, stop, _stop, stop, **stop, stop, STOP, STOP—**_

A hand lands on his shoulder, and the pain, the flames, the confusion, _everything_ , disappears like a pin drop. He looks up, and the Archangel is looking down at him, a sad and forlorn expression on his face.

“Do you see, little one? He doesn’t care for you. Not truly, not the way you care for him. Please little one. You _need_ to understand, that… _demon_ holds no true remorse for what he’s done. This is the path you are about to walk down little angel. You need to take back what is _yours_.” At Mumbo’s questioning look, the archangel pulls the angel to his feet. “I can help you little one. Give you the strength you need, the _reminders_ , you’ll need. All you have to say is the word.”

Mumbo takes a breath, his heart dripping black ink, his chest an angry inferno, and nods.

“Yes.”

The archangel reaches out again, and cups Mumbo’s cheek.

“Good choice little one.” The archangel snaps his fingers of his other hand, and just as Mumbo’s vision fades to darkness, he thinks he sees a wicked smile stretch across the archangel’s face.

Odd.

* * *

Grian watches Mumbo slump to the ground, unconscious, with blood leaking out from his ears, and something inside him _snaps_. He feels the heat of a thousand suns course through his veins, his anger and anxiety and frustration and fear finally blowing the lid off him. He feels the glamour slide away, but he doesn’t care.

His face warps into a snarl, and he screams. He screams and what comes out of his throat is the most demonic and bone-chilling sound he’s ever heard, and he watches with satisfaction as the archangel takes a single step backwards.

He rushes forward, faster than he thought he could even move, and tackles the archangel to the ground. Grian can’t help the flash of sick joy that he gets at the brief flicker of fear in the archangel’s eyes. Growling, Grian leans down, and lets his breath ghost across the archangel’s ear.

“If you don’t _fix_ , whatever you just did to him, _I am going to tear you **limb from limb**_.”

Grian can hear just how distorted his voice sounds, and he has no idea the cause, but he is perfectly willing to use it to his advantage. The archangel cringes away from him as much as possible, before pinning him with a hateful glare.

“Get _off_ of you me, you insolent **worm**.” Distantly, Grian wonders why the archangel hasn’t just attacked him and tossed him into The Void, but he pushes that away for the time being, and lets the wicked smirk he always tries to hide over take his features.

“Or. You can _fix Mumbo. **Now.**_ ” Grian realizes with a flash that he has pushed his luck too far, as the archangel’s eyes burn pure white and he lands flat on his back a few blocks away. He lets out a pained groan and shakily pushes himself up and back onto his feet. He coughs, and his eyes go wide at the drips of blood that fly out. The archangel doesn’t move from where he is now standing, and Grian gulps.

**_“You think you can intimidate me, you worthless creature? You dare defy my will? You are useless. Disgusting. BROKEN. The Void would be too good for you. You…you must suffer.”_ **

The archangel’s eyes slide over to where Mumbo is still unconscious on the ground.

 ** _“And I think I know just the perfect way to break you.”_** Grian feels his heart stop and his blood run ice cold.

“What—what do you mean? Leave—leave Mumbo alone! He didn’t do anything! _He didn’t do anything!_ ” The archangel flicks his hand and Grian is forced onto his knees. He watches with mounting horror as Mumbo slowly stands up, his eyes— _oh god his eyes_ —glowing pure white.

“Mu—Mumbo? Are—are you o…kay?” Grian’s fearful tone dies off as Mumbo turns and looks at him, his eyes still burning bright white.

 _“You dare speak to me demon? After what you’ve done to me?”_ Mumbo’s voice is layered, as if there were 10 of him all speaking at the same time. Grian takes a step back, feeling like his heart was about to shatter.

“Mumbo? Mumbo what do you mean? You just—,” Grian stops, and turns to the archangel, realizing with a start that _his eyes_ are also glowing harsh white.

“You! You’re controlling him! Let him go! _Let him go, **dammit**!”_ Mumbo and the archangel both smirk, before the archangel speaks.

“Stupid boy. I am not controlling him. I am only allowing him the freedom to speak what is truly on his mind.” At that, the glow fades from Mumbo’s eyes, though they remain almost hazy looking. His expression shifts from smug to hurt to betrayal, and then, he turns his face away.

“How could you Grian? You—I trusted you. I thought—I thought you would admit it at some point. You weren’t ever gonna tell me, were you? You weren’t ever gonna tell me that you’re the reason I can’t fly, were you? _Were you?_ ” Mumbo’s voice is back to normal, but so broken and empty, and Grian doesn’t know what to do.

“Mumbo please, I—,” Mumbo cuts him off with a snarl.

“Save it! I don’t want to hear it! You—you _abomination!_ ” Grian feels a lead ball drop into his stomach and his heart decay. He takes a half step towards the angel before he falls to his knees.

“Mumbo please. _Please_ Mumbo, I—I’m sorry, I—,” Grian can’t hold back the sob that wrenches itself from his throat, and his sobs only grow at the disgusted look on Mumbo’s face.

“Get—get away from me. I—I can’t believe I thought I could love such a pathetic excuse for a creature.” Mumbo turns back to the archangel, and gingerly takes the long and curving blade that is presented to him.

“You know what you must do, little one. There is only one way for you to get your wings back.” Grian watches in horror as Mumbo nods, and begins to walk toward him. Grian doesn’t fight back as Mumbo shoves him face-first into the cold and rough End Stone. He allows Mumbo to lie his blackened wings out on either side, only letting one tiny whimper of pain slip out as he feels the tip of the blade drag roughly down his back, the seams of his sweater splitting.

“Why—why are you…why aren’t you fighting back?” Mumbo’s voice is hard as he asks, but Grian can hear the tinge of apprehension within it. Grian opens his mouth to respond, but the archangel speaks before he can.

“Stop stalling little one. _Do it. **Now**_.” Grian feels Mumbo shudder ever so slightly above him, and then his world lights up into white hot _pain._ He’s never experienced pain like this before, nothing, not suffocation, burning in lava, a trident through the chest, _nothing,_ can compare to this, He tries his best to hold back the screams of agony, but when the blade starts to carve into his back fully, he just can’t.

The same demonic scream rips from his throat once again, but this time it’s clouded over by a high-pitched haze of anguish. The blade pulls through each and every tiny piece of sinew and skin meticulously. Between his screams, Grian can hear the archangel quietly encouraging Mumbo’s actions.

 _“Good little one. That’s right. This is what he deserves. Yes little one…good.”_ Mumbo doesn’t respond, only continues to surgically slice through the skin on Grian’s back.

Grian can feel the blood soaking through what’s left of his sweater with acute clarity, and when Mumbo’s blade slices through one of the thicker bits of muscle, Grian’s stomach finally gives up and he hurls out his lunch. He hears the archangel laugh behind him. He wants to give into the pain, to embrace the cold inky darkness tugging at his mind, but… _something_ is keeping him conscious.

 _“You think I would allow you to miss out on this delightful situation, you disgusting little waste of life? It’s only **fair** that you experience the pain to its… **fullest** extent. Little one, don’t you think it would be easier…if he was on his knees?”_ The blade disappears from his back, but Grian knows better than to sigh in relief. He is roughly yanked to his knees, and there are suddenly two pillars either side of him, that Mumbo ties his wrists to.

Grian coughs out a glob of blood, before wearily lifting his head. Mumbo’s face is neutral, his eyes still slightly hazed over, but there are tears tracks down his face.

Everything seems to go perfectly still for a moment, the world seemingly holding its breath, and Grian takes the moment to let the quiet little melody he had been singing earlier slip from his throat, the notes wavering and breaking as they float through the air. He cuts himself off with another cough of blood, and finally speaks.

“Mum—Mumbo. I—It’s okay. I love you. I really do. This—this won’t change that. I _promise_. It’s—,” Grian is cut off by a deep and shuddering sob of pain. “It’s gonna be okay Mumbo. It will. I love you.” He gives the angel a small smile, before the pain in his back grows too much to bear again, and he clenches his eyes shut.

The angel doesn’t respond, and the blade returns to his back a moment later, almost _gentle_ in its movements. It doesn’t take long Grian’s body to go rigid again, though, as he screams out in agony once more. With each pass of the blade, Grian can feel the skin and muscle of his back slowly ripping apart, the stolen wings slowly being peeled away.

Finally, when his throat is torn and ragged, and his body is limp and exhausted, the blade leaves his back, and he knows the wings are gone. Even though his head is completely listed to the side, he forces himself to open his eyes.

A ways in front of him, Mumbo is presenting the archangel with the blackened wings, tears streaming down his emotionless face. He can’t hear what the archangel says, but the being is smiling, and he reaches out and pats the top of Mumbo’s head. The archangel then takes the wings in his hands, and black seems to drip off of them like ink. He beckons Mumbo closer, and Grian clenches his eyes shut at the bright and harsh flash of pure light.

When Grian opens his eyes again, the first thing he sees is the archangel, looking smug, and Mumbo, looking confused. Mumbo flexes his wings, and the angel’s eyes go wide. Grian can feel just how much of his strength has melted away, but he manages to give Mumbo the faintest hint of a smile when the angel’s eyes lock onto him. Mumbo’s eyes are finally clear of the haze and the angel’s jaw drops open in horror. The angel rushes over and drops to his knees in front of the demon. Grian does his best to hide his flinch.

“Gri-Grian? Are—what, did—I? Oh god—,” Mumbo’s voice is back to the love and concern filled version that Grian is so used to, and he can’t stop the dopey smile that crosses his face, despite the underlying fear as the angel reaches out to brush away the demon’s fringe from his eyes.

“You—you got your wings back. I’m—that’s good. They look better on you, ya’know.” Grian’s mind is growing hazy, and his vision is starting to fade out around the edges. The exhaustion has sat in and he can’t really decide whether or not he wants to sleep. Mumbo’s eyes well up with fresh tears, and Grian tries to reach out, but then remembers that he’s still restrained.

“No, no, Mumbo, no—no crying! You’re all fixed now!” This seems to only make Mumbo cry harder.

“Grian you—,” a sob wrenches out of Mumbo’s throat. “Grian love, I—I never meant for his. He—he was warping my thoughts, my actions, I—,” Mumbo’s words are cut off as the archangel appears behind him.

 _“I suggest you leave little one. You have no business with this disgusting creature anymore.”_ The archangel is giving Mumbo what looks to be a soft expression, but his eyes are glowing slightly, and his tone leaves no room for argument. Mumbo looks up with thinly veiled hatred, but something in his eyes seems to break.

“Grian. I love you. That’ll never change. _I’m so sorry_.” Mumbo leans down and presses a chaste kiss to Grian’s matted forehead, before turning away. Grian can just make out the tears pouring down his face as the angel flies away. Grian can barely make out anything over the rush of blood in his ears, and the next thing he knows, he’s falling face first onto the ground, his restraints broken.

 _“Finally. He was only saying that to spare your feelings you know. He still left. He knows that you are a waste.”_ Grian is roughly pulled to his feet, and dragged to the edge of the island. The archangel lifts him into the air over The Void.

 _“Like I told you. This would have been too good for you at first. But now? Wingless, broken, and alone? The way you **should** be? I think it’s time to begin your eternity of pain.” _Grian feels the archangel’s eyes roam over his broken form, the being seemingly basking in his victory, so the demon allows himself to take in a shuddering breath, the last one he’ll ever take, before he forces himself to look up at the archangel.

“I know.”

The archangel’s face is neutral, marred only by the wicked gleam of sick satisfaction burning in his eyes. Grian lets his own eyes fall shut, and he feels the hand holding him up disappear. For a moment, it feels as if he’s suspended in the air, the very universe holding its breath.

_‘I’ll always love you Mumbo. Forever and always.’_

And then his body hurtles into the inky darkness below.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, Chapter 2 will be posted soon. Please don't hurt me ;D <3


End file.
